


In the gown? (He doesn’t own knives.)

by Cairo_Raiser545



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Author Projecting onto TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Exile, Exiled TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Hurt No Comfort, Hurt TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade Needs a Hug (Video Blogging RPF), TommyInnit Needs a Hug (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit are Siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-18 18:20:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29613504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cairo_Raiser545/pseuds/Cairo_Raiser545
Summary: Tommy’s always looked up to Technoblade. Eldest brother, his protector more than Phil ever was. Now it’s cold and he misses the past. When he could just find his ever-so-silent brother for comfort.(Title from The Sleepybois Pigstep Rap.)
Relationships: TommyInnit & Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF)
Kudos: 53





	In the gown? (He doesn’t own knives.)

Technoblade. 

The stoic, silent master of fighting.

A man who led an empire, had enough and turned to anarchy instead.  
He always was better at causing death anyway, not at the whole treaty thing.

However, Technoblade was also a son and a brother.

One of those things was very important to TommyInnit.

Phil had been a good father. He didn’t control the fact that he would be thrown into worlds, forced to stay until he died.  
(He could have died, it wasn’t that painful, but he never told Tommy that.)

But no-one could change the fact that he much preferred his brothers over his Dad.  
(He’d not really known his father in the end, he couldn’t be blamed.)

Wilbur was good when Tommy was clearly upset. Humming songs and strumming chords and planting kisses on his head. Rocking him softly back and forth until the tears stopped and the stars felt a little brighter. He’d fall asleep rocked by Wilbur, sipping on warm milk.

But Techno?

Techno was good when Tommy’s voice didn’t work, and words wouldn’t come. When things felt cold and his eyes would go black at the edges and he felt dizzy and it was all too much. Techno would stay there reading books about Greeks and Romans and Chinese war lords and the candles would crackle and somehow it felt so much quieter than his bedroom where nothing ever happened. 

If there was one thing Tommy loved it was when Techno draped his cape over the back of the sofa, but would still wear it clasped around his shoulders, and Tommy could burrow behind Techno’s back, underneath the cape, and Tommy would feel the crushing weight as Techno leaned back on him, and the cape would drape on Tommy’s head like a hood and Techno would rest the book on Tommy’s head. He’d be so small, and he could still breathe, but for a while he could feel surrounded and hidden and _safe_ for a while as fires burned and pages flicked and Techno grunted and the light pulse of blood in Techno’s thigh where Tommy’s head rested would produce a rhythmic thrum that could send him not to sleep but into a lulled consciousness. Awake but glowy.  
(According to Technoblade, Tommy would make little noises like a tiny cat. (Big Men don’t make noises.))

Technoblade.

The ruthless, secretive master of weaponry.

A man who joined a rebellion to hate it, and ignored their talk of rebuilding their country to act ‘betrayed’ when they tried.

Tommy had never hated Techno really. He was so, so mad when Tubbo had died, but he guessed Tubbo didn’t matter anymore really.  
(After all, Tubbo hated him now. Tommy would have put Tubbo first, but Tubbo hadn’t done the same.)

He didn’t hate Tubbo either. It was a hard decision and he’d been given no time to make it. Was there really a right decision?  
(Tubbo could have negotiated, had he learned nothing from Tommy’s scams? From watching the subtleties that came with talking your way out?)

It was cold out here in Tnret. No blankets, no real beds, little food. He just had to be thankful. Thankful that his friend would visit him and say hello.  
(Dream wasn’t his friend really. Yes he was.)

Thankful he was even still alive. He should have been, but it was too cold to enjoy anything. Death would have been kinder. He’d met it several times, felt it over and over. At least he might have felt some semblance of warmth. It was better than nothing at all.

But he still missed home, curling up with his brothers. He did that before this place, he did that in Pogtopia. Even when Wilbur had lost his mind he still rocked Tommy and Techno still leans against the wall reading books as Tommy crawled under and into a ball.  
He was a lanky, long teenager now, but so were his brothers (if you ignored the ‘teenager’ bit) so Tommy still fit. He had hoped he would always fit, but you can’t fit physically if you don’t fit emotionally.

He could curl up under the edges of Tnret, pretending the cloth was a blanket, but it wouldn’t really be the same.

And Techno could shove a pillow behind his back, leaning the book on a rock, but it would never really be the same.

But Techno has already visited, Tommy doesn’t want him.  
Tommy has already had a visit, Techno just wants to mock him.

And neither man will drop their egos to finally admit they wish they weren’t here at all.  
And that Techno’s love isn’t fighting, it’s knowledge.  
And that Tommy’s love isn’t war, it’s friendship, brothership.

Neither man believes that the other will truly see them.  
How the land has tainted the lives of its people.

**Author's Note:**

> I’m curled up in pain, really not feeling great, so I wrote this because I need to project ig.


End file.
